On the Ontology of Old Cars

When conversation really, really lags and I feel the need to do something desperate, I have long relied on my metaphysical topics: 1) the potato-chip question*; and 2) the antique-car question. Topic #2 is our purpose at the moment.

The question is rather simply put, as it should be. Imagine an antique or classic car, say, a 1956 Ford Thunderbird, long one of my favorites, the one with the removable fiberglass top. In "Thunderbird Green" should do nicely, I think.

Anyway, imagine that this Thunderbird is exceptionally well maintained. As light bulbs burn out they are replaced. As other parts wear out, they, too, are replaced. The engine has probably been taken apart and put back together at least twice, and perhaps the transmission has been replaced. Over time body work is necessary here and there, possibly a new fender and a new bumper were required.

You get the picture. Over time little bits of the Thunderbird are replaced. After some number of years it becomes possible, then likely, that none of the physical materials of which the Thunderbird is currently constituted were actually incorporated into this car in the factor. In fact, every piece of the original car has been replaced at one time or another. And yet, provided the replacements are made small enough at any one time, the car will still be considered an original and well-maintained 1956 Thunderbird by most people, collectors and connoisseurs in particular.

And yet no piece or particle of the car is in any way original. Where, then, resides the essence of the car? The question appears in other guises, too. I once read a fascinating article about different attitudes between American conservationists and Asian conservationists, the former being aghast to learn that the latter conserved old buildings by tearing them down and building them afresh every 100 years or so.

I think it's a fascinating question; some people think it's trivial and irritating, but they're not very interesting people anyway, so they can be ignored.

But the question itself, interesting as it is, is not the point of this essay. The real point is that I had always thought this was my question, having never encountered anyone else who had put this notion quite this way. Until this morning, that is.

My current reading, one of it anyway, is the mystery novel by Reed Farret Coleman called Empty Ever After. So far so good, but I'm really only getting started.

Regardless, what should I read this morning but this (from p. 89):

How much, I wondered, peering at my tired-looking reflection, had I changed without noticing?I thought back to philosophy class at Brooklyn College.

Essay #1
If you own a car for a number of years and over the course of those many years you replace part after part, at what point does that car cease being th original car? Does that car ever cease being what it once was? If you were to replace every part, would it cease being the old car?

I was startled, but now I know that I'm not alone, for better or worse.
__________
* Without going into detail, the question has to do with how to distinguish between a "potato chip" and "part of a potato chip". In any group I find that everyone feels the question is trivial and the answer obvious, but if the group is larger than 5 or 6 there can be serious disagreements on the obvious answer.

Posted on June 29, 2008 at 21.53 by jns · Permalink
In: All, Notes to Richard, The Art of Conversation

8 Responses

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  1. Written by Bill Morrison
    on Sunday, 29 June 2008 at 22.40
    Permalink

    There's a simpler version of this.

    The old farmer holds up his axe. "Best damn' axe I ever had," the man says. "Changed the handle four times and the head twice," he said, "just couldn't throw away an axe as good as this!"

  2. Written by jns
    on Sunday, 29 June 2008 at 23.41
    Permalink

    That's a beautiful example, Bill!

  3. Written by Jennifer
    on Monday, 30 June 2008 at 01.27
    Permalink

    Now I understand where I get my odd thoughts about things that seem trivial.

  4. Written by S.W. Anderson
    on Monday, 30 June 2008 at 02.48
    Permalink

    It's an interesting question, one I recall having had in a humorous vein, though not as humorously as Morrison's joke.

    It seems to me what you have in the T-bird is a certain design, a certain model of car. Given that it has tens of thousands of parts, I doubt you'd end up replacing them all. But I take it that completeness of replacement enters in for the sake of discussion.

    So, over time you replace all the parts. The question then becomes what's important, the particular make and model of car or the parts? And if it's the parts, where do you draw the line? For example, must the parts all be made by Ford or original suppliers or can newer parts from Mexico and China be used?

    I suppose a collector will insist as much of the vehicle as possible be authentic original Ford parts. Parts can be refurbished but unless there's no other way, they shouldn't be replaced with some contemporary knockoffs.

    By contrast, a car enthusiast who just always liked T-Birds would likely not care all that much whether parts are new or original, just so the design is adhered to and the car has the T-Bird look and feel.

    For an interesting variation, consider philately. No complicated assembly of working parts there, just a stamp. A reproduction, however good and dellightful to look at, is just a fake. Collectors want only authentic originals in the best condition they can afford. Repairs greatly lessen value and desirability. Why? First and foremost, to maintain a market not subject to destruction by a flood of reproductions.

  5. Written by rightsaidfred
    on Wednesday, 16 July 2008 at 11.10
    Permalink

    >>>>And yet no piece or particle of the car is in any way original.

    In the marketplace of classic cars, more is paid for those cars with more original parts.

    >>>>Where, then, resides the essence of the car?

    At birth, each car is issued a unique serial number that lends an abstract essence to the enterprise.

    My inquiry is this: If you have a political enterprise (the US government) and it is currently run by person A (George Bush), and you have person B who wants the job (let's say Barack Obama in full Muslim garb) and person B is promising 'real change', how much must be changed before we can say we have a new government?

    For the most part we will have the same lifer bureaucrats and their ilk doing the same thing, so what is the metric for real change?

  6. Written by jns
    on Wednesday, 16 July 2008 at 12.43
    Permalink

    One could wave one's hands very quickly and talk authoritatively about statistical metrics and standard deviations and such, but I suspect that when it all gets boiled down, "real change" has happened when "real change" is perceived to have happened by the electorate. The officials elected may have been involved in affecting change, but I doubt that it's really necessary.

  7. Written by rightsaidfred
    on Wednesday, 16 July 2008 at 13.39
    Permalink

    >>>>…when "real change" is perceived to have happened by the electorate.

    Hmmm. Not what I was looking for. I guess I want some hand waving and regression analysis.

    Otherwise, I travel in my small circle and see road construction, lines around the welfare office, bureaucrats going into buildings, and I wonder what would change in all this to make a difference.

  8. Written by jns
    on Wednesday, 16 July 2008 at 16.25
    Permalink

    Something like different economic policies (or not spending money on the "War on Terror"/Iraq invasion) –> strengthen US$ –> resulting noticeable drop in gasoline prices might be one you could use.

    Personally, though, a metric like my personal salary going from $0 to $100k would be a statistic I could get behind.

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